


A Minor Puzzle

by narsus



Series: Commerce [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Implied Relationships, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-06
Updated: 2010-11-06
Packaged: 2017-10-13 02:17:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narsus/pseuds/narsus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morning trivialities and conversations in the shower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Minor Puzzle

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to the BBC, Mark Gatiss & Steven Moffat, and obviously in the genesis of it all to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

"Fifty grand isn't a lot of money." Comes the yell from the shower.

Sherlock is fiddling with the assembly of a travel toothbrush at the time so he ignores it.

"I said-"  
"I heard you. Now shut up."

The sound of the shower running and the brushing of his own teeth is the only noise for a while. Teeth brushed, he discards the toothbrush and borrowed dressing gown, and elbows the shower door open.

"Budge up."

Obligingly, Sebastian moves over, too busy concentrating on whatever he's putting in his hair, and keeping it out of his eyes, to do much else. Sherlock picks over his options and settles on using Sebastian's 'sports wash' on both hair and body.

"Fifty grand isn't a lot of money." Said accusingly. "You should tell your father."  
"My father's dead."

Sherlock waits, hair covered in suds while Sebastian rinses his own through for the third time.

"That chap you're always with then." As they switch places.  
"John?"  
"Not your boyfriend. The other one."

Sherlock doesn't bother correcting the misassumption directly; instead he supposes it might make a reasonably instructive deductive exercise.

"If John was my boyfriend why would I be in the shower with you?"  
"Had a tiff. Happens all the time."

They swap places again and end up almost knocking each other over when Sebastian tries to reach for the loofa.

"Watch that."  
"How much did you use?"  
"What?"  
"That bottle was half full this morning."

It's a good thing that Sebastian's shower is just as ostentatious as the rest of his upmarket apartment, Sherlock acknowledges. It would really be possible to fit at least three men in under the double shower heads.

"What other one?"  
"The one with the car and the busty PA." Sebastian being quite capable of following the non sequitur.  
"You mean-" Sherlock stops himself.  
"What is he anyway? Some younger uncle? Trustee?" Sebastian stops scrubbing long enough to look Sherlock up and down theatrically. "Surrogate daddy?"  
Sherlock gives him a light shove. "Shut up, Seb. You're filling the air up with stupid. It might be contagious."  
Sebastian gives him a half-hearted leer and goes back to scrubbing at his skin.  
"Give that here. You'll never get that bit otherwise."  
"Thanks."  
Sherlock rubs the loofa over Sebastian's back with only a touch of annoyance to his actions.  
"I've got tickets to the theatre if you're interested."  
"Maybe. What for?"  
"Lloyd Webber's latest. Phantom of the Opera sequel."  
Sherlock snorts ungraciously.  
"It's much better than the Frederick Forsyth novel."  
"As if I've read that." Sherlock hands the loofa back dismissively.

Sebastian stands under the water a moment longer before moving to step out of the shower. Sherlock ignores him, concentrating on rinsing soap from behind his ears.

"Wednesday. Matinee." Sebastian says, now from outside the shower.  
"Fine. Buy me lunch."  
"Simpson's?"  
"Of course."  
"I can do breakfast this morning as well."  
"Where?"  
"Pret-"  
"I hate Pret."  
Sebastian laughs. "Let yourself out then. And don't you _dare_ turn off my freezer this time."  
"There wasn't any food in it." Sherlock calls after him, just before the bathroom door closes.

By the time Sherlock's finished in the shower, Sebastian is already gone. Sherlock likes to take his time on occasions like this anyway. It avoids the awkwardness of saying goodbye in the morning. He doesn't bothering dressing immediately and instead pulls on the dressing gown that Sebastian's discarded in the bedroom. It smells oddly acerbic and a little sharp, which suggests that Sebastian's started wearing that handmade aftershave again. Sherlock does a little search of the bedroom and quickly discovers a small glass container with "Malediction" written on the label. He makes a note to look it up when he gets home, out of a vague sense of curiosity at the name connotation.

Moving to the kitchen he finds the fridge particularly sparse, save for a pack of pre-sliced salmon and a small tin of caviar. He could of course polish off both for breakfast, but the caviar turns out to be of the lumpfish variety, so he leaves it for Sebastian's evidently inferior palate. Other than the slim contents of the fridge there isn't anything else he hasn't seen before. The books in the living room are the usual coffee table variety, or business aids that purport to help the reader 'win friends and influence people'. The magazines are the usual stack of _GQ_ and _Empire_ tucked away on the coffee table's lower shelf. He isn't expecting anything new and is about to go get dressed when something catches his eye. A book, looking like it's been deliberately, swiftly, inexpertly, hidden in the middle of the pile of magazines. He pulls it out: something Sebastian was trying to hide being of much more interest that everything else he leaves on display.

Half an hour later Sherlock is still stretched out across the couch, Sebastian's dressing gown more or less falling off him, puzzling over the book's content. The flashy cover and typeface that proclaim " _He's just not that into you_ " suggest that the book isn't aimed at Sebastian's demographic. The content, likewise, reinforces that notion, which doesn't at all explain what it's doing in Sebastian's apartment. It could, Sherlock reflects, have been left by a member of its target demographic, but there's no evidence that anybody other than Sebastian, himself and a weekly cleaner have been in Sebastian's apartment for months. The fact that it's been hidden, and in such a fashion that suggests it was quickly stuffed out of sight, lends credence to the idea that Sebastian bought the book himself. It could have been given to him, but Sherlock hasn't noticed any indication of there being anybody close to Sebastian whom he'd tolerate that sort of gift from. Which leaves the most likely conclusion being that Sebastian did indeed buy the book himself. The fact that he hid it suggests that he's aware that it's not marketed to his demographic and that he's ashamed to have purchased it, but he still felt the need to buy it anyway.

It's enough of a riddle that Sherlock decides that he won't stand Sebastian up on Wednesday after all. The outing will allow him to catalogue the necessary data with which to solve this minor puzzle, and perhaps, for a little while at least, that will be enough to stave off the ever encroaching ennui that plagues him.

**Author's Note:**

> Malediction is a patchouli and vetiver BPAL fragrance oil.
> 
>  _How to Win Friends and Influence People_ was first published in 1937 and was one of the earliest bestselling self-help books.


End file.
